Burnbones
Artist's Rendition of Burnbones Burnbones is an Istarian old-wives-tale for Dragons; he is a dark, skeletal dragon wreathed in smoke and glowing eyes of red. He is known to appear when offerings in the form of hoard are placed at the edge of a lava pool, and his name chanted three times. His story is told by the Costumed Dragon The Tale of Burnbones There is an old game dragon hatchlings play at parties, or when friends come to stay the night, or late at night when the adults are asleep. They gather around a lava pool with much giggling and whispering, until one of them declares "this is serious!" and everyone tries to look solemn. One by one, they place treasured items from their hoards on the edge of the lava pool and look around, daring each other to place a more valuable item even closer to the glowing, molten rock.' Once the last glittering bit of hoard is sitting by the lava, the hatchlings begin to quietly repeat a single name... Burnbones...Burnbones...Burnbones... Deep into the molten rock they stare, daring the long-dead spirit to arise. Burnbones, the Dracolich. Burnbones, the Hoard Thief. The stories claim that he appears as a charred skeleton, wreathed in smoke. Smoldering embers fall from him as he moves, and his eyes are black, bottomless pits. Sometimes the hatchlings imagine they see him in the churning lava - and sometimes they actually do. He doesn't appear very often, for it taxes him greatly, but a valuable trinket is a strong lure and the occasional appearance ensures every new generation of hatchlings knows his name. When he does appear, he erupts out of the lava and lunges for the most valuable hoard items and seizes them in his mouth before the hatchlings can move to reclaim them. Usually they're so frightened that they scamper backwards, leaving all the offerings unprotected and he can claim them easily before withdrawing into the molten stone. The cries of the hatchlings bring their parents, who listen to the frantic explanations with firm skepticism, then shoo the hatchlings to their lairs and leave them with threats of dire consequences if they don't stop all this foolishness and get some sleep. When morning comes, the hatchlings almost always decide that their imaginations got the best of them and that there is a logical explanation for the fact that their hoard items are missing. In time, they, like their parents, will forget the exhilaration and terror of these childhood tales. They may watch their children try the same game, and gently shake their heads. Burnbones watches it all, and waits to be summoned again. He passes his time meditating upon his hoard, deep in the molten rock of his prison. He remembers every glittering gem, every biped-crafted sword, armor segment, tool, and piece of jewelry. He remembers every scale and spell. He remembers every rare and exotic item he claimed, every grave he opened and every corpse he desecrated and ransacked to get them. He remembers the fury of the mob that followed him, and the searing agony of Helian spell and Lunus chain binding him deep within his hidden hoard treasury as it was slowly flooded, condemning him to live and burn forever in a hell of molten stone. Their fury and disgust meant nothing to him. His hoard was the biggest and the best, and he would be remembered forever for acquiring it. Category:Lore